Princess of Theives
by butwhowasphone
Summary: AU. Quinn wasn't really a knight, and the Princess was really a Thief. Quinn-centric, Faberry
1. Prologue

_**A/N**_ Skyrim terms are clarified at the bottom. Nobody wants to read that shit if it was up here. If you don't like, that's cool with me. But hey, there's dragons, mythological creatures, killing, magic, and all that cool stuff. This story involves patience. I like developed and paced stories.

This is a fanfiction site, of course I don't own shit.

-prologues my homies a rly long pro-log-

* * *

Hiram Corcoran immediately fell to his knees, weeping at the sight of his daughter's room. A body lay on the floor, bloodied, but his armor spoke more than the disarray his daughter's room was in. The red and black leather was more than enough to the Jarl of Solitude.

The Dark Brotherhood. The hooded corpse, already hours into decaying, was an assassin. An assassin that had failed, evident as he lay dead in the middle of his daughter's chamber. The Dark Brotherhood did not fail- they were one of the most feared cults in Skyrim.

Hiram heard a loud shrill behind him, before turning into sobs, and all he could manage to do was wrap an arm around his wife, Shelby, and bring her closer against his shoulder. Already, his Steward and Housecarl have spread word of this catastrophe, to search the palace, and the city of Solitude for the missing girl.

Hundreds of soldiers were heard shouting orders while running through the palace, and an even larger amount stampeded throughout the city. Their footsteps ricocheted off the brick buildings that neighbored the palace, and despite it being hours before the sun even rose, the whole city was awake.

Hiram and Shelby sat at the doorway of their daughter's room, unmoving in contrast to the rest of the city.

"Your highness," a voice huffed behind the distraught parents. "The High King has been alerted of everything just a couple of moments ago, his Housecarl is helping him to the Main Hall- he's immediately called upon a meeting between us and the General of the Imperial Army."

Hiram inhaled deeply, closing his eyes for a moment, his memory etching out the face of his beloved daughter. After recomposing himself, he gave a stern nod to his Steward. "We'll be there shortly," he replied, before helping his wife up. Her brown eyes watered, but as the wife of a Jarl, she too forced herself to calm down. Those of Royal Status could not panic.

Hiram and Shelby followed their Steward down the stone hallway, maids and soldiers pressing themselves against the walls and out of their way.

The flickering torches along the cold stone walls, licked against their shadows.

* * *

The man holding the torch, bellowed, "On the counts of treason, fraud, attempted murder, and attempt to escape, Mr. and Mrs. Fabray are sentenced to death!"

The crowd that surrounded the elder couple cheered, except for one little girl, held by two soldiers. One of them bent down, and whispered in her ear, "You cannot close your eyes. As the only descendent of the Fabray Clan, you must watch the consequence of their corruption."

Lucy Quinn could only nod, the young seven year old knew herself that this was the way of Windhelm. It wasn't fair, of course, but she had no say. All she knew is that her parents did something bad, and tried to run away, but got caught. And now, they pay with their lives.

That didn't stop her knees from shaking. Had the two guards not been holding her up by each arm, her legs would've given way to gravity. She couldn't tear her eyes away from her kneeling parents in the middle of the courtyard.

The torches held from the soldiers and the citizens around her did not bring her any warmth, nor did it bring any light to pass through the girls golden bangs. Instead, she only felt the augmented cold breeze that drafted from the tall mountains, despite being the month of Sun's Height, behind Windhelm. Instead, she only saw the shadows dancing around on the ground of the courtyard.

If anything, Lucy Quinn wished her parents were able to look up, but their heads were forced down.

Moments later, Lucy did manage to make eye contact with her parents, as their heads rolled on the ground.

* * *

"My son, Hiram, this is a great tragedy," the elderly man spoke. Hiram looked up at his father, who beckoned him over, before putting his hands on his son's shoulders.

"Father- your highness," Hiram began, "This is greater than a tragedy, your highness. A contract with the Dark Brotherhood had been made against my precious daughter- she has not done harm to anyone!"

"The Dark Brotherhood is a cursed organization," Hiram's father spoke, "And in turn, the contract on my granddaughter has cursed our family. For Solitude, the entitlement of High King, and the Jarl, runs through the Corcoran blood."

The High King's steward shook his head, "Then have our Jarl and his wife consummate and bring forth another child? The Corcoran blood does not to need to cease from one child."

Hiram's Steward immediately braced himself, and stepped in front of his Jarl, preventing him from throwing himself at the High King's steward. Beside them, Hiram's Housecarl seethed, "Watch your mouth, Elf. Provoking the Jarl and mocking his wife does not better this situation.

"Your Highness," Shelby spoke up, "He is right. I cannot have another child. My body does not allow it. And, if it wasn't against the conduct of the Jarl, I would allow him to find a mistress. But the Jarl's of Skyrim follow the belief of Mara- or be cursed to the dark depths of Sovngarde to atone for adultery."

The High King of Skyrim sighed, sending a warning look to his Steward. The Steward of the High King was known to be a bit mouthy, and had a very flamboyant and arrogant personality, but was always loyal to the High King. Much less could be said about his loyalty to the High King's son, however.

"I apologize for Pierre's comment," the High King spoke, eyes sincere with apology. Immediately, Shelby put her hand up, "There is no need for apologies, your highness. Even we know of your Steward's," she casted a glare towards Pierre, "raunchy mouth."

"I hate to interrupt this chatter," a voice boomed, along with the sound of heavy metal walking across the main hall, "but the kidnapping of the Jarl's daughter is the top priority."

"General Sylvester," Hiram somberly greeted. The elder woman, toughened from many battles, gave a stern nod, though the glint of her eyes was much less harsh.

"Your daughter's disappearance may be the first step into a civil uprising. Whether it is from the Storm Cloaks, or any enemy from Morrowind- someone is trying to end the Royal Corcoran bloodline.

"It is private knowledge, and only of the highest official's knowledge that Lady Corcoran can no longer give birth. To take away the only descendant of the Corcoran blood, immediately destroys the tradition of this Bloodline. This means, that your highness, the High King, and Jarl Hiram, are the last two of this Bloodline until we find your daughter. Before whoever kidnapped her harms her, hopefully."

Jarl Hiram's face collapsed into grave despair. "This is the highest act of treason then- someone in the official court of Solitude has betrayed us. We do not even know our enemy, and they hold all the power against us."

The Jarl's Housecarl grabbed Hiram's forearm, "Do not fret your highness. I am here to guard your life- and I will do so until your daughter is found alive and well." The High King's Housecarl nodded, and bid the same promise to protect his Highness.

Hiram nodded, gratuitous for the loyalty of his protector. "General, what action will you take with the Imperial army?"

"The scouting throughout the whole city will be done at dawn. After that, I will declare a higher number of soldiers guarding the palace and the city itself. I will have scouts infiltrate the other Holds and towns of Skyrim to obtain information. I myself, will travel to Windhelm, and speak to the General Schuester of the Storm Cloaks," the General pauses, before a light smile cracks her face, adding "hopefully, without bloodshed."

"If the Storm Cloaks have nothing to do with this," the High King spoke, "then we are facing a war with another nation."

A period of silence passed over their heads, as they realized that this was the beginning of a great war.

"I think we are forgetting a highly important detail," Pierre spoke, gaining the attention of the occupants in the main hall.

"Who intercepted the Dark Brotherhood's contract?"

Hiram's steward gasped, "How could we overlook such a detail? If the Jarl's daughter had a contract on her, essentially, the person who kidnapped her saved her- and saved the Corcoran bloodline from perishing?"

"General Sylvester," Hiram's Housecarl started, "Do you know of any factions that kidnap? The Dark Brotherhood is the only that I've heard that has kidnapped before. Of course to be assassinated, but, someone else had to have been given a contract to save the girl!"

"Do not make assumptions," the High King voiced sternly. "We do not have any evidence that the kidnapper sides with the Empire. This itself could be an untimely coincidence from another group against us."

Shelby wrapped her arms around herself, frantically trying to compose herself in front of the highest officials. "My daughter- my only daughter…" she whispered.

"General Sylvester- organize the Imperial army by the end of Sun's Height. Before meeting with General Schuester, we need to investigate everyone who knows about Lady Shelby's condition. That includes yourself, General Sylvester, and every person in this room outside of the Corcoran bloodline," the High King ordered.

General Sylvester nodded, along with the two Housecarls, and the two Stewards. "I will follow through any test you have for me for my loyalty to the Corcoran bloodline, and as you, my High King," she spoke, before getting down on one knee.

"As soon as my loyalty seems proved to you, High King of Skyrim, and I will go to no ends to find out who is responsible for kidnapping your daughter, Jarl Hiram of Solitude. I swear on my life as General of the Imperial Army."

"No need for such an honorable pledge. My faith in you does not waver," Hiram spoke. "Your commitment for the Corcoran family has always shown in your valiant actions. But for fairness, I must investigate your loyalty. And I would like to investigate everyone in this room first, to ensure where our loyalties lie. For something as classified as my wife's inability to give birth, especially as important it is to the Corcoran bloodline- the possible outcomes of such is one of the highest treasons that can be committed against us."

* * *

Lucy Quinn sat in the dusty alleyway, relishing in the shade provide from the buildings on this hot day. One week since her parents had been sentenced to death. One week since she became a homeless orphan. The orphanage wouldn't take her in- her parents were criminals. And Lucy Quinn couldn't blame them.

The thing about Lucy was that she was smart. She may be only seven years old, but she was able to read when she was a bit older than three. The average child read at her age. If their parents decided that they should be scholars, that is. But Lucy had many hobbies- one which was reading the hefty amount of books her parents owned in their home.

Well, what was left of their home. The Jarl of Windhelm had taken back the Fabray household, claiming all that they owned. Lucy managed to get her favorite toy, her mother's coin purse, her favorite book, and a satchel her mother prepared her in preparation for the worst case scenario. Honestly, her parents thought they could weasel their way out of their shady business dealing and only succumb to prison time. But, when a mob had chased them throughout the town in the middle of the night, and her father had, in panic, almost stabbed a Windhelm guard, they had been sentenced to death. And Lucy was cast away to the shadows of Windhelm.

Lucy was okay for that first week. She enough money to buy clean water and food, and had bought a couple of blankets she was able to set up in that alleyway. She made a few abandoned crates make a makeshift house, which really was a roof over the blankets.

But, Windhelm was not a rich city. Especially since it was home to the Storm Cloaks, what Lucy understood was the group that didn't like how the High King of Skyrim ruled. Food was overpriced, since Windhelm was more of political city than a place where its citizens can thrive. In the next month, despite just getting out of the month of Sun's Height, the temperature would drastically drop, letting the city enter a long period of icy slumber.

Lucy was a bright girl- and she knew that if she didn't leave Windhelm, or find a place to stay in, she would die in those months. But, if she left now, she could easily die in the wilderness. Skyrim was home to many beasts, and traveling alone was something that was outright mad if you weren't a skilled warrior.

A rock smacked the wall next to her, snapping Lucy out of her daze. She glared in the direction of where it came from. The young boys in Windhelm were not gentleman- they were sons of Storm Cloak soldiers, born and raised to be a soldier themselves.

"Lookie here, boys!" One of them called out. He had been the one to throw the first rock. "It's Lucy Caboosey!" he yelled, throwing another rock. Lucy had a fast enough reflect to raise her arm up and block the rocking, and cried out in pain when it made impact.

"Leave me alone!" Lucy cried out, cover her head as more rocks started being thrown.

"Shut up!" One of them hissed. "We saw your parents get killed! It's only right that you die to!"

"Your father tried to stab my father! And he got what was coming to him! So it's your turn to die, you wicked bitch!"

Lucy moved her hands down, as she got herself up to her knees, ready to run. She hid behind the makeshift crates, which were splintering and cracking from the rocks being thrown. She threw on the satchel, and put the rest of her belongings into the blankets, before rolling them up into a ball and moving out of her makeshift home right when the crate cracked and fell over.

Little Lucy made a few great leaps, before she felt one hit the back of her head, a sickening crack was heard, and she fell over in the dark alleyway.

She couldn't move her body, and she hated herself for being so weak, and not being able to stand up to these vicious boys. At the same time, she felt relief- if she died, she would be going to Sovngarde to meet her parents. Well, if they hadn't been cast down to the depths of it.

"Did we kill her?" one of the boys asked, hesitantly, as if it hadn't been their intention to severely harm the girl. Of course, had they really intended to not harm her, they wouldn't have been stoning her like barbarians. Lucy's vision blurred even more so, her eyes growing heavy and a fog of fatigue fell over her.

"Wh- What the hell! You kids, get back here!" she heard the echo of a man's voice, but he sounded so far away. Moments later, Lucy saw the world move around her, and she was lifted up into strong arms.

Had she already died, and was moving up into Sovngarde?

"It's okay, little one, I got you. Don't close your eyes on me, okay? Don't close your eyes," a soothing voice said.

Lucy fought to keep her eyes open, but she was just so tired, and her head really, really hurt.

She managed to keep her eyes open, albeit they were barely split open, and she felt dizzy when the person holding her started moving. The light from the sun intensified, and all the moving the woman was doing made Lucy incredibly nauseas.

Minutes later, which seemed like hours to Lucy, the person carrying her stopped, before asking someone to open the door for her. She heard the door open, before they stepped a cooler interior. The escape from the heat made Lucy really realize just how hot it was outside, and it intensified how dry her throat was. But it didn't help, when the figure moved to lower Lucy, and she turned and heaved the little content in her stomach onto the floor.

She felt tears come to her eyes, but she couldn't even sob, and the voice calmly soothed her, "It's okay, little lamb, it's okay," she whispered. She was then lied down onto a soft cushion, which Lucy recognized as a bed. Moments later, a wet cloth wiped her face, from the sweat, dirt, and vomit, before she was leaned upwards.

"Honey, I need you to turn you around. I need to check if you're bleeding, okay?" the person asked, and Lucy complied.

With the help of the adult, she managed to push and turn herself around, before lying back down on the bed. She felt careful hands checking through her hair, before stopping at one point, and gently pressing a cool cloth at one section of her head. Lucy immediately could tell that's where the rock had hit her.

"Don't worry," the woman reassured, "It's a slight cut. It's not bleeding too much, but we'll need to keep your head cool. You must be a hard-headed little girl." A low chuckle followed the woman's sentence, before she wrapped a cool cloth all around Lucy's head.

"I'm going to allow you to rest, but I need you to understand that I have to make sure you wake up a bit after okay? So when I wake you up, you can't fight me okay? You'll need to wake up." Lucy managed to nod, not able to make a verbal sound.

And so she closed her eyes, while the woman started to clean the floor she had gotten sick on, wondering why such kindness was shown to her.

"Little lamb, you need to wake up now," the soothing voice beckoned her from sleep. Lucy's eyes slowly fluttered open, but dry lips pressed against themselves as she tried to make sound come out. "Wa…ter…" she murmured, before her eyes found her caretaker. It was a young woman, with blonde hair, just as hers.

Francine Sibelus. The wife of the blacksmith here in Windhelm- and a distant relative to the Fabray family. Lucy had never interacted with Francine, but had seen her mother pass greetings towards the young woman.

"Of course," Francine said, her lips turned upward, pleased that the little girl was conscious and able to talk. She helped Lucy sit upwards, before bring a cup filled with water to the girl's lips, who slowly, but greedily, drank the liquid. When Lucy finished the cup, Francine began to loosen the cloth wrapped around Lucy's head, before replacing it with another damp cloth, when the door opened.

Averan Sibelus, a Nord of thick stature, walked in, clutching two small boys by their shirts. "Apologize, now," he gruffly said, pushing the two boys further.

Immediately, both boys tightened their lips and looked towards the ground, more in shame than in apology. "Apologize!" Averan said again, in a much more harsh voice.

"Sorry!" the boys exclaimed. "We weren't trying to kill you," one of them said. "We didn't mean it, honest."

Averan was about to punish the boys, before Francine spoke up. "Enough Averan, we are not these boy's parents. Do not do what is not our jobs," she chastised. Averan calmed himself down, before making the two boys face him.

"If I ever see you two acting like beasts again, I'll make sure your parents treat you the same!" he viciously warned. "You never hurt a lady like that, ever!"

The boys mutely nodded, before running out the house, cursing Lucy for having the wrath of Averan.

"How is she, Francine?" Averan spoke, his deep voice much less rough.

Francine finished tying the newly damp cloth against Lucy's head, before turning to Averan. "She's awake now- she woke up without any problems, so the hit to her head wasn't that severe."

"A hard headed little girl you are," Averan chuckled out. Francine let a small laugh escape her lips, "That's what I said. Just one of the traits passed down through the Fabrays."

Lucy turned her head to Francine, her throat moist enough for her to talk. "You don't hate me too?" she asked.

Francine smiled, and cupped the little girl's cheek. "No, little lamb. The Fabray's were once a powerful family- but your parents just got corrupted by the power they had. That is separate from you and who you are, okay? You are not your parents," she reassured.

Lucy nodded, before asking for more water.

* * *

General Sylvester threw the man into the creek- a scout had tracked a suspicious man that had been in Solitude in the time of the kidnapping, but he had just been a poor wanderer. He had nothing on him that signified a part of anything, other than rags, an empty stomach, and a retched smell.

The hot days of Sun's Height had ended- and the falling leaves had shown the completely entrance into Frostfall.

General Sylvester threw herself up onto her horse, patting it lovingly, before enticing her horse into a sprint back to Solitude. It was time- she needed to travel to Windhelm. Solitude had been heavily secured, and the scouts sent out have not provided any more information than what they already had.

General Sylvester had sent a letter the week before, knowing that it was time to cross territories from the Imperial to the Storm Cloaks.

After returning to Solitude, she immediately gathered nine of her loyal soldiers, and prepared to set off the next dawn. No clues had been drawn up towards the Jarl's daughter. Venturing into Storm Cloak territory was dangerous- not just for her and her soldiers, but for all of Skyrim. One wrong move, and it could spark Skyrim into a civil war.

* * *

Lucy rubbed her cheek with a thick glove, ones that Francine used to own when she was a little girl. She sat in front of the smelter, melting metals into their molds and hammering them into shape. She was in charge of the daggers and axe blades, too small to be able to do anything else.

The heat from the intense fire she had the hot dagger in warmed her, luckily. Despite being two months from Evening Star, the coldest, and most frozen month, Windhelm was already covered in snow and thin layers of ice.

She heard a twig snap, and put the clamp she was using to hold the dagger in a secure place, before her other hand picked up a thick branch that was at her feet.

Another twig snapped, and Lucy turned around fast enough to hit a rock that pelted towards her with the branch. The two boys from before, Davian Karofsky and Azimio Adams, much older than Lucy, stood on the gravel pathway.

In the past months working with Averan the Blacksmith, Lucy had accomplished many things. Working everyday with Averan, in exchange for living with him and Francine had both provided her a home, and gave Lucy a bit more strength, physically, and mentally.

Of course, Davian and Azimio didn't stop stoning Lucy, or bullying her when she was alone, they just made sure they didn't get caught anymore.

Though Lucy was much smaller and frail compared to the two larger boys, she was much more quick than them, able to outrun them whenever she was cornered, and her reaction times improved by a tenfold with how much she was able to avoid their rocks.

But after months of dodging rocks, Lucy was to see their pattern of how they threw it, and simply understood what direction these rocks were going.

This moment was of slight luck to Lucy- being able to deflect it with the branch. She had merely raised it to show that she wasn't unarmed to the boys, in hopes that they would see that she wasn't worth enough to hassle anymore.

Of course, it did help that the movement made Lucy at an advantage; the two boys had never seen Lucy deflect any of the rocks they threw.

"Leave me alone," she spat, giving her best glare at the two boys.

"Don't tell us what to do, Fabray! Your parents are at the burning pits of Sovngarde, and we're just here to remind that that is where you'll be too!" Azimio called out, laughing. Lucy winced at his tone when he called out her surname. Ever since her parent's death, the Fabray family name had been cursed by the entire city, out casting Lucy even more from the city.

Davian snorted, continuing, "You're just a charity case for the Sibelus! Once they realize that you're as wicked as your whore mother and pig father, they'll cast you out too!"

Lucy couldn't blink back the tears, despite hearing these insults and stabs enough that it was almost mundane.

"Don't make me call Avaran out here," she warned, glad that her voice hadn't given away the verge of her crying. As if the Gods had heard her threat, the door to Averan's store opened, indicated by a bell hanging on the door.

The two boys grimaced, knowing that they were at a disadvantage. "Fuckin' bitch," Davian called out, before gripping Azimio's shoulder and turning them around, before running off.

"Impressive," an unfamiliar voice called out. Lucy quickly wiped her tears, before looking up at a very older man. "I saw from out the window- how you blocked that first rock. Very impressive reaction time, especially from someone so young, and no less a little girl like you."

Lucy glared at the man- in the months of being an outcast, and prone to bullying, it's the only expression the girl had come to wear, outside of Francine and Averan of course.

The elder man laughed, "I'm in no position to mock your gender, little girl- I've seen countless female warriors more brave then the men who claim to be the best."

"I couldn't care about being called a girl- I am one. But I'm tired of everyone calling me little," Lucy spoke, returning her attention to the iron dagger she was forging.

"You can obviously defend yourself," the man observed, "You are a very curious, little girl. Very peculiar."

Lucy said nothing to that, and continued to hammer the dagger.

"You know, you remind me of a young girl I once trained," the man spoke after watching Lucy work on the dagger, before continuing, "Though she wasn't as quiet as you were, nor calm nor collected." He let out a laugh, "In fact, she was ruthless, and fierce. She was much older than you are now, but, you remind me a great deal of her.

"Never before had I wanted someone to prove they weren't weak the way she did. Until you," he spoke softly. Lucy stopped working on her dagger to look at the man.

"I haven't done anything to show that," she started.

"Don't think I haven't heard anything about you, and don't think that it's normal for a girl your age to already be working on a dagger like that as if you were doing it for years. I know you are a smart girl, Lucy Quinn Fabray, a very intelligent young girl. How old are you?"

A red tint covered her face, Lucy couldn't explain why, when the man had complimented her. "I turned eight years old in the beginning of Hearthfire," she answered.

"Very young indeed," the man muttered, before crouching down to Lucy's level. Lucy's eyebrow raised, no man had ever gone down to her level to stare eye to eye with her. It was as if this man was letting Lucy feel powerful. "Tell me, young Lucy, how would you like to be strong- stronger than any Nord home to Skyrim?"

Lucy Quinn swallowed the saliva in mouth that moment because her throat constricted and felt awfully dry. "You are a unique, little girl, with very much potential within you. As did all Fabrays."

That got Lucy's attention the most. It had been so long, long before her parent's death, since anyone said the name Fabray with a positive tone.

"I'm not wicked," Lucy thought back to one of the things Francine said that completely earned her trust, "and I am not my parents."

"I can make you strong- stronger than anyone in this Hold. Stronger than many other warriors out there."

"Are you lying to me?" Lucy muttered, this opportunity was too good to be true. Not only was it an escape from Winterhold, and an escape from being an outcast, but it was a chance for her to become strong.

"You can talk to Averan and Francine first, of course. I'll give you a we-"

"No," Lucy interrupted him. "I'll talk to them right now."

Lucy stood up, and walked with purpose to the store, the man right behind. Averan looked up, and looked at the man behind her, understanding almost immediately. They had been friends for a long time, and have fought together countless times with the Storm Cloaks.

"Lucy, I've known this man all my life," Averan started, walking to Lucy. "And I know that he can provide a different life for you, outside of Windhelm. I just want you to know, that I trust him with my life." Averan turned towards the stairway, "Francine!" he called out.

"Francine, it's…it's Leroy."

Lucy knew at this time, Francine would be cleaning the entire upstairs, or hanging their laundry along the ceiling, and almost certainly, a thud echoed along the house and store. It was most likely Francine jumping off from the table she was on to hang their laundry, before she ran downstairs.

"I…" Francine huffed as she ran down the stairs, before hugging Lucy tightly. "Lucy, I am not your mother," she spoke, almost apologizing. "But I want you to know, that had you been my child, I would never let you go at this moment. But you aren't, you are not my child, but know that I love you as if you were mine, do you understand that Lucy?"

Lucy nodded, feeling wetness accumulate on her shoulder- Francine was crying. "Leroy is a great man," Francine started, "but if you go with him, you cannot come back. I will not let you come back, okay?"

Lucy tried to turn her head, completely confused. "I don't understand what is going on," she asked, very unsure of this situation.

Leroy looked at Averan, who gave him an understanding nod. "I do not live in just any Hold, Lucy. And I am actually not even allowed to be in this city- I am wanted for treason myself," the man laughed.

"Long tale short, I was once the General of the Storm Cloaks. But, my allegiance these days is to the Empire. Such an action makes me quite unwelcome to what is the Storm Cloaks headquarters," Leroy let a small chuckle. "If you choose, as Francine and Averan give you that choice, to come with me, you will become wanted just as I am. Returning here would be calling for a death sentence."

"I don't get why they would know- if you're here right now, then why aren't the Storm Cloaks after you?" Lucy questioned.

"Very observant of you, little one," he joked tenderly. "I am here to warn someone. My presence here speaks much more than a letter. Averan, my loyal friend, is willingly allowing me to threaten his wife into giving me a weapon, to storm the Jarl's hallway with."

"Leroy!" Francine chastised. "You aren't even going to do that!"

Leroy chuckled a bit, before looking out the window. "It's actually almost time, Lucy, I apologize for not giving you much time to think with, but you need to choose whether to stay here, or come with me."

There wasn't even a hesitation. Lucy gave a firm nod, before announcing she was going. Francine placed kisses all over Lucy's face, before hugging her tightly, and running upstairs. Minutes later, she gave Lucy a bag, and Lucy's mother's satchel. "Little Lamb, be safe, okay?" Francine muttered against Lucy's blonde tresses as she hugged her tightly again. "May Kynareth grant us the blessed fortune to cross paths once again, just so I know you are safe and sound. I love you Lucy Quinn, and I know you will bring light to the Fabray name."

As soon as Francine let go, Averan hugged Lucy tightly, pulling out an object from behind him. It was a steel sword, a very expensive weapon. Selling it to any soldier would've paid for taxes and food for over two years. "You may not be old enough to use this now, but this is my greatest work. Leroy, if you will, it might be too heavy for Lucy right now."

"No, I'll carry it," Lucy spoke. If Averan had given her such a valuable gift, then she would treasure it, and carry its weight. The scabbard for the sword had an adjustable leather belt, allowing Lucy to wear the sword on her back, though its end went to her knees. It was heavy, but Lucy could wear it.

"It's time," Leroy announced, as he observed the sky losing its blue hue and transition to an orange. Averan nodded, giving Francine a chaste kiss. Then, with a quick strike, he hit Francine and she collapsed against the floor. Lucy had enough time to pick up the bag Francine prepared for her, before Leroy picked her up himself, and running out the door.

Behind them, at the porch of his store, Averan yelled out, "It's him! It's Leroy! Guards he's attacked my wife! Somebody kill him!"

It was a hot summer night, and she just couldn't get herself to sleep. Her mother had sung her a lullaby many hours ago, and it usually helped her sleep, but she couldn't shake off the feeling that something was off.

She wasn't afraid of beasts lurking in her room- no beast existed in her royal chamber. But she was afraid of the shadow in the corner of her room. A shadow that grew bigger, along with her eyes as she watched it come closer.

"What in heaven's-" she started, ready to scream, before a hand covered her mouth, and an arrow shot through her window, shattering it, and impaling itself on the neck of the figure that had been coming out of the shadows. A figure in black and red leather dropped onto the floor, and a piece of paper in its hand dropped, crumpled.

She could only nod, in fear of what had been hiding in her shadows, watching her toss and turn in bed. The figure bent down and whispered something in her ear, before picking her up, and jumping out the window.

Hours later, when coming to check on his daughter after going through a long, city meeting with merchants and discussing trades, Hiram Corcoran dropped down to his knees in horror.

Lucy had learned what pain meant, on her first day of training. After their fiasco in Windhelm, where the most Leroy did was throw a dagger at the Jarl's door with a letter attached to it, they spent days on horseback, to a new part of Skyrim Lucy had only heard of from the words of the Storm Cloak soldiers, and from the books she's read. It was very different- gone with the evergreen trees and snow, and with more plantation and green grass, covered with leaves. There were barely any traces of snow on these mountains, though they were of less height than the ones that towered over Windhelm.

On the fifth day of travel, Leroy dropped off the horse at a stable near the base of the mountain, and soon they started upwards on a dangerous trail, steep, and rocky, up a mountain. Upon reaching the top, Lucy laid eyes on a house, no bigger than the Sibelus' house.

Her first day of training, Lucy learned how weak she really us. Leroy handed Lucy a thick, metal pole, with two buckets attached to each end, and told her to go down the mountain, fill it to the brim at the creek, and come back up. He merely told her two things afterwards, "Don't spill the water, and don't die."

Going down the mountain was relatively difficult- but Lucy would get used to the trail by the end of the week. She had started by the time the sun crept up, warming the cool air at the top of the mountain and lighting the entire valley beneath. It was almost beautiful. Even here, the snowy mountains where Windhelm was were barely visible, only small specks.

She found the creek at the base of the mountain, and took a long drink from it, before unpacking the clothed lunch Leroy gave to her. It was a thick ball of bread, and Lucy bit into it, drinking water after each bite. By the time she had the buckets filled and started her way to the base of the mountain, the sun was already in the middle of the sky.

The journey up, was much more difficult than Lucy imagined. The water had increased the weight on her shoulders by tenfold- the pole by itself had been heavy enough.

Needless to say, Lucy made it to the top of the mountain, with empty buckets, by the time the moon was high up in the sky.

She had collapsed at the top of the trail, and Leroy picked up, brought her into the house, and closed the door.

The day after, Leroy attached a rope to her waist, before making her stand at the edge of the cliff. He handed her a branch, much like the one she had used to threaten Davian and Azimio. Without a word, Leroy went back into the house, before bring out a heavy sack. He emptied its contents, and a great number of rocks fell out. Much larger than the ones Davian and Azimio threw at her. He tied the rope to his own waist, with enough slack for him to move all the way to his shack before the rope would rise off the ground, before picking up a rock, and swiftly throwing it at Lucy.

It hit her right in the shoulder, and she fell back, her weight propelling her off the cliff. Immediately, Leroy changed his stance, taking a wide step between his feet, before using two hands to pull on the rope as Lucy fell.

Lucy slammed against the side of the cliff, before hearing Leroy call out to her. "You alive?" he merely asked. Lucy winced at the pain that shot across her side from the collision, even more so at the pain of her weight being held by the rope. When she heard Leroy's question, she shot a glare at the man, even if he couldn't see it.

"Climb up, and we'll do it again. We'll stop when you block a hundred rocks."

Lucy fell twelve more times, before they finished at dawn, taking four breaks for water and food.

The third day, Leroy accompanied Lucy to the base of the mountain. If Lucy beat Leroy in a race up the mountain, Lucy would have a day off. He only thought of this, because Lucy had muttered that she was still a kid and wanted to play.

The fourth day, Lucy went down to the bottom of the mountain with the two buckets. This time, she made it up during the sunset, with the buckets half full of water.

The fifth day, Lucy went down to the bottom of the mountain with the two buckets. She made it up during sunset again, but the buckets were still full.

The sixth day, Lucy stood at the edge of the cliff, and he threw rocks at her. They finished a bit past noon when Lucy collapsed and vomited over the side of the cliff.

The seventh day, Lucy had a severe fever.

Lucy recovered after four days of sleeping.

On the 11th day, Lucy only fell off the cliff four times, and blocked 100 rocks before noon.

On the 6th week, Lucy made it up the mountain with the two buckets full, just a few hours after noon. Leroy finally begun to teach her how to fight with a sword.

On the 4th month, Leroy fitted wooden weights on her forearms and shins for every session.

By the end of the first year, Lucy could deflect 300 rocks, and go up and down the mountain with the buckets just hours after the Sun hit the middle of the sky, with the weights. Lucy turned nine during Hearthfire, and on her birthday, Leroy gave her a day off. She went to the bottom of the mountain, and to a nearby village, where she purchased a large cow and two pigs with the money Leroy gave her. She gave the animals as a present to Leroy.

By her fourth year, Leroy had made metal weights that weighed a bit heavier than the steel sword Averan had forged for her. While carrying the buckets with these new weights, Lucy fell, and broke her right arm.

She instead learned to use her left arm in spars, rather than wait for her right to heal.

By her fifth year, Lucy was ambidextrous with two swords. Leroy used smaller rocks, and Lucy could deflect over 500 in an hour with falling.

By her sixth year, Lucy beat Leroy in the race up the mountain.

By her seventh year, Leroy's old age was coming through, evident in his actions. He died days after Lucy turned fifteen. He had fallen ill retrieving an important package. It was a stuffed lamb, and a black, steel sword, much heavier than the worn sword Lucy had from Averan. Hearthfire was a lot colder this year, and Leroy managed to tell Lucy that she was by far the strongest warrior he's ever seen, and she's never had to kill anyone yet. He tells Lucy he's proud of her- proud to have taught her.

Lucy thanks him, for making her strong. Lucy thanks him, for everything. For saving her.

She was fifteen, much taller than she was when she was an eight year old, meeting Leroy for the first time. But over the five years of training, Lucy still felt little compared to this man.

Life left his eyes, as he whispered his pride for this girl, and Lucy no longer felt little.

Lucy burned his body, and let the ashes flow in the wind, off the mountain. She wished Leroy the best of luck in Sovngarde, and slid the leather straps on the two swords onto her back forming an X-shape, the black steel sword on her left side, and her first on the right side.

She ventured down the mountain for the last time, and told the village at the base of the mountain of Leroy's death. Condolences were passed, and at the Altar of Talos, offerings were made towards the great warrior Leroy, no matter what allegiance he was on.

They bid goodbye to Lucy, as they knew that it was her time to leave, and she gave them a small smile.

After a day of travel, far from the mountain and village, Lucy made a fire by a creek. In the water's reflection, illuminated by the moonlight, Lucy unsheathed her steel sword. She fisted her golden hair, long from years of growth, before bringing her blade up and underneath, cutting it off. She dropped the cut hair into the creek, the ends of her cut hair touching her shoulders.

* * *

A feminine figure in dark leather strung her bow as her gaze followed a man on a horse. A courier that pledged allegiance to their guild had read a letter discussing a trade of a special item. The contents of the letter was a riddle- and it didn't directly state the true meaning. Brittany, another member of the Guild had a knack for solving puzzles, along with find clues that suggested it was a puzzle in the first place.

It wasn't a common activity for their guild to intercept letters, but at times they did snoop around, when the letter seemed suspicious enough. This letter in particular, only had a destination, but was addressed to no one. Brittany herself could only decipher the destination in the letter, but its coordinates didn't exactly match a place in Skyrim. So, she followed the man who would receive this letter, tailing the courier, and was to see if it was anything worth taking.

He was on horseback, and she had to follow this man two days straight by fresh tracks. On his third day of travel, he stopped traveling, tying his horse to a tree. The girl was glad, she had only gotten a few hours of sleep while tailing this man. She had enough training to disregard extreme pressures of fatigue to focus, thanks to the Guild. She considered dropping the mission hours before, if the man continued to travel. She would be caught if she couldn't focus.

She watched the two men meet up, and hug each other. _Must be old friends_, she thought to herself.

She quietly climbed up a tree, and traveled branch by branch to get a closer look. She arrived at a better lookout point just in time to see the younger man give the older man a- _Bingo, we got ourselves a nice gift_, she thought, as he handed the older man a sword. Immediately, she pulled an arrow out and strung her bow. Ready to shoot the younger man, more fit to fight, she held a breath as she aimed at his leg.

Killing was against the rules- unless it was self defense, or bandits. But of course, her arrows were laced with poison, hand-made by her close friend. It was a type of poison that was easily cured- if it wasn't hitting any major organ, and would slowly paralyze the target for a day. If it did hit a major organ, by chance, the wearer would know they are poisoned immediately. It wasn't harmful at all, especially since a simple disinfection would dilute the poison almost immediately.

But it was when the younger man pulled a stuffed lamb out, she faltered, her arm hitting the branch. Though the most subtle noise was made, both men turned their heads toward her, and in such a swift movement, the older man had thrown a dagger at the branch she was on. She back flipped off the branch, falling to the floor. Quickly, she pulled an arrow out and strung her bow shooting an arrow at the two.

She thought it would hit the younger man- the more physically able than the other, but again she was surprised at how quick this older man was, who jumped in front of the other man. The arrow jabbed through his mid section, and the younger man caught him, and in this instant the girl ran away- she had underestimated her situation immensely and ran off.

She was still close enough, however, to hear the younger man cry out the older man's name.

She had to admit, that the older man was something she hadn't seen in a while. Usually warriors of that skill perished long before they reached his age.

_Leroy_, she thought. _I underestimated him- that guy is on another level, honestly…_

She made her way to the closest town, a small town that wouldn't give her trouble. She rented a room from the inn, avoiding any suspicious questions (the dark brown and black leather usually gave it away), and that night she slept soundly.

The next day she hitched a ride with a caravan, making her way back to Riften, the infamous Hold of the Thieves Guild.

"Hitching" a ride was pretty farfetched- she actually held a knife to the Khajiit's throat.

Once arriving there, she carefully maneuvered herself through one of the sewage ways, her own shortcut into the Ratway's Cistern, the room where the guild prospered and thrived in.

Swiftly making her way through the pipes cut across the tiny crawl space, she dropped down through a hole into the Cistern, where she almost knocks over another female Nord. The other female has enough sense to avoid the girl, and merely gives her an irritated look, before whacking the girl on the head.

"Watch it girl," the tan-skinned Breton spat out, though the helping hand she offered took the bite out of her words.

The other girl smiled, the fall having pushed her hood off from covering her space. The brunette Nord gave her a cheeky smile, "Sorry about that, Santana," she laughed.

"You really live up to this places name, you rat," Santana joked. The brunette gave her a glare, and the Breton merely laughed at her more. "You look like I just drowned your goldfish, midget."

The Nord once again scowled at her, only pleasing the other thief even more. Santana threw her arm around her shorter friend, though just by a smaller amount. Despite they small difference in height, Santana still took it to tease her friend about that. "So, how was your little mission?"

The brunette rolled her eyes. "I'd like to thank Talos for screwing me over. I underestimated an old man- he was a skilled warrior. I was aiming for the younger guy- you know, it made sense to. It was a sword, pretty finely forged from my point of view, and a stuffed lamb. Maybe for the old guy's kid, or something.

"I got one night of sleep out of the past four, San. I'd really like to hop in bed right now," the brunette continued, as the Breton walked her over to her chamber. Santana grinned, trailing a finger down the brunette's arm.

"Is there any chance I can get invited to that?" Santana spoke, drawling her voice.

"Shut up Santana, sadly you're not my type," the other girl laughed, pushing the other girl away. Santana laughed, pushing the other girl into her room.

"You know you love me Rachel," Santana winked, before turning away. "Get some rest, my runaway Princess."

* * *

End long prologue thnk gudnes. -

**End A/N: Term defining**

Sun's Height, Hearthfire, and Evening Star are the names of the months August, October, and December, respectively.

A Nord is a human, the primitive race in Skyrim. Breton is a half human half elf.

Khajiit is a feline beast human thing.

High king is pretty much the dude of all of skyrim, while jarls rule each hold. Solitude has both a jarl and a high king, and in this story, the seat of high king passes through blood. Jarl doesn't necessarily have to. Berry sounds super fruity for a medieval story, so Corcoran it is.

I like Skyrim, and I like faberry. So mix the two together. Plot elements from the game that I'm adapting are only the civil war aspects between the imperial doodes and the strm cloakeksekaleklakes.

I really wanted to see a Robin Hood like Rachel, and a bad ass dual wielding Quinn. With a plot, and mythological creatures, and shit. By gods this is a long prologue. I apologize if for grammatical/spelling errors. Quinn centric fic, very much so. I like developing supporting characters and the plot before throwing them together and their inevitable desires to mate like bunnies.

Review please, as you all know, reviews motivate an author to write :D .


	2. Chapter 1

Quinn leaped forward, tumbling out of the way of an axe slamming down in her previous position. The girl glared at the bandits- four, large, burly Orcs surrounded her. She had been wandering across Skyrim for months, and she had been surprised at how hostile the inhabitants of Skyrim were.

"Well, well, well, boys we've got ourselves a catch," the one in the middle said, slamming the pole of his war hammer onto the ground, and leaning on it. "Listen girly, how about you drop those weapons, and those clothes, and join us for some fun," he grinned.

Quinn raised an eyebrow. _Really,_ she thought, slightly bored. "Boss, you gotta let me have a go at her," the one with the axe snickered, licking his lips as he looked at the blonde teenager. "You know how I like playing with little girls," he grinned wickedly. The Bandit Leader smirked, and Quinn spread her legs shoulder width, raising her right hand to clasp the handle of her sword.

"You wanna play, big boy? I hope you like playing hard to get," Quinn spoke, her lips curling into a smirk.

The bandits looked confused for a second- that was a phrase that didn't come out of a victim's mouth.

That moment, Quinn dashed forward, but to the Orc's eyes, it was as if she had vanished for a quick second, before the rounding out a kick to the back of the right most Orc. She shifted her weight to propel herself off the ground, and resituated the leg she had used to kick the Orc to jump off his back, before unsheathing her sword all the way, and slicing through pole of the war hammer, causing the heavy piece of metal to fall behind the Bandit Leader.

He barely had time to curse Quinn when spun around again, her movements fluid like a dancer, and swung the butt of her sword handle against a certain area on the Orc's neck. Immediately, the Bandit Leader crumpled to the ground, and Quinn pressed a foot on his neck. She leaned down slightly, "Well, well, well, looks like I've got myself a catch," she mocked the Bandit Leader.

She raised an eyebrow at the last Orc standing, who finally regained his senses to charge at Quinn. He swung his sword at Quinn, who crouched to dodge it, before jumping towards the Orc still charging in her direction. Her jump was swift, and powerful, timed rightly, so her knee slammed against his midsection, and he limply fell backwards.

"Don't kill us!" the Bandit Leader begged, his muscles still in shock from the pressure point Quinn had slammed down on. Quinn walked around to face the Orc on the floor, sneering at him. "And how many times have you heard that begged to you? How many times someone who didn't deserve it, surrender to you, like you are right now, but you slaughtered them anyways?"

The Orc whimpered, but Quinn backed off. "If I killed you, it'd simply be too painless. Pray to Kyne that you'll be able to move in a couple of hours before the wolves sniff you out. Hungry bastards, they are," she laughed. She reached for a sack tied to the Bandit leader's waist, full of gold coins. "And I'll be taking this," Quinn said, flashing a bright smile to the Orc.

She tossed the sack of coins into her own satchel, which she had cut the straps to tie around the leather belt wrapped around her waist. Quinn then continued to walk along the dirt path, a main road she had gotten ambushed by.

It had been seven months since Leroy had died. The blonde teenager spent the first weeks sobbing at night for the loss of her master, but had cheered up incredibly in her exploration of vast land of Skyrim. His old age was not something Quinn was ignorant of, but still, his passing left Quinn unbearably lonely.

She walked for a couple more hours, before finding a nice creek to fill her metal canister with water. She then plopped down under an oak tree, on green grass a bit moist from the rainfall the night before. The winter airs were thinning out, and each day grew warmer to Quinn. The month of Rain's Fall must be ending soon, Quinn observed, as the periods of rain had become more staccato and brief.

Perhaps she could find her way back to Windhelm- she honestly had no idea where to go these days. She achieved such strength no other warrior in Skyrim had normally been trained under, and had been surprised of her own strengths the first time she had been attacked.

It was a pack of wolves, who had been hunting her the first few weeks she left the mountain. Seven wolves, and she had managed to only get a long scratch diagonally on her left thigh. She had went into town despite the minor injury, to surprisingly being rewarded for slaying the wolves, and getting the long scratch disinfected by the town's doctor for free.

Apparently, the pack of wolves had been terrorizing the village's pig farm. It was a village of farmers, not warriors, and a pack of eight wolves was a force not to be reckoned with.

Just how strong she was, she couldn't compare, because all she had to compare herself to these past years was the small village at the base of the mountain, and Leroy himself.

She had spent seven years under harsh training to become more agile, faster, and stronger. Leroy praised the speed of her reaction- it was her primary talent. Quinn also had a knack for reading movements, and be the end of her sixth year in training, reading Leroy was second nature, making their spars last for hours.

Her strength and speed, on the other hand, were not innate gifts. They were granted by the seven years of hard, physical training.

Quinn leaned against the grass, before reaching into her satchel, and pulling out the stuffed lamb Francine knitted her. _I wonder if they have kids by now, _Quinn thought. She played with toy's ear, before shifting her gaze to the azure sky above her. She took in a deep breath- the air was crisp and clean, and added to the relaxing feel. There was a slightly salty element in the air- perhaps Quinn was near the coast.

It would make sense, she was far from the mountainous region, and river she had been following had been growing wider and wider.

Quinn rested her eyes, putting the toy lamb on her face to block out the sun. She basked in the sun, not tired at all from half a day's travel, including the little ambush, Quinn's been through more physically endeavoring tasks than that, but from the sheer atmosphere this area was giving off. It was extremely calm, the elements of nature providing such a comforting aura.

Quinn lay around for a little over an hour, before getting up, ready to encounter a village. Sleeping on the ground wasn't great, and she could use a bath.

Hours later, when the sun had finally lowered behind the mountains of Skyrim, Quinn exited the thick forest, her eyes following the road to a large Hold, sitting on top of a cliff. Next to the cliff, Quinn could visibly see the dark waters crashing against sandy beaches miles away.

A delighted grin took over her usually stoic expression, and she broke off into a light jog towards the city, hoping to catch the bathhouse before it closed. She followed the path and crossed a bridge, making her way up long stairs, carved into the mountain, zig-zagging its way up to the Hold's large stone walls. She made it to the gate, only to see another gate past the one she was at.

As she approached the first gate, one of the soldier's holding the torch at the front of it walked towards her. _Imperial uniform_, she noted, especially taking note of the patch marked on the leather tunic the guard was wearing. The crest of the Empire was on it, being a red diamond with silhouette of a black dragon. She looked around the lit gate- there were several archers on top of the wall. Needless to say, compared to the Markarth Hold she had previously been to, this hold was heavily protected.

"Identification, please," the guard spoke.

"Lucy Quinn," the blonde teenager answered, and the guard eyed her. Not the way the Orcs had earlier, but out of duty and regulation. She respected that.

"Surname?" the guard asked. Quinn mentally deflated, she hoped she would be able to avoid her surname, she had used it back at Markarth, and it turned out the Fabrays were a well known family across Skyrim. So, she adopted another surname. One that she surely felt home to, in a mere manor of months.

"Sibelus," she spoke again.

"Any may I ask why you're here?"

"I'm a wanderer. Been traveling Skyrim for the last couple of months," Quinn paused when she heard one of the other guards scoff, giving him a cold glare. She continued, "I just came from Markarth over a week ago. Just looking for my way in Skyrim."

The guard nodded, and unlike the other men, he respected the girl for traversing the land on her own. He could see that she was capable of defending herself, but his mates saw her as a piece of meat. "Alright. I'll guide you to the interior gate," he said, "you're not from around here, so the guards will be pretty watchful of you. Solitude's just been under a lot of stress these past seven years. High security and everything."

Quinn nodded, and followed the young man through the exterior gate and up the last set of stairs to the interior gate. "Lucy Quinn, huh," the young guard asked. "I must apologize for the other guys' attitudes, but I have to admit myself, you are quite the looker," he quickly added on, "I'm not fancying you or anything, my heart has already taken an arrow itself."

Quinn smiled, "And her name is?"

"Mercedes, the most beautiful Redguard I've laid my eyes on," he spoke dreamily, placing his hand on his heart. Quinn laughed the young man, genuinely happy for the boy. "She's the daughter of the innkeeper here- you might meet her. The inn's the first building to your left by the way. Bathhouse is built into the basement."

"What's your name?" she asked as they got closer to the interior gate.

"Samuel Evans, at your service," he introduced himself, bowing slightly. "Joined the Imperial Army when I was eligible to fight at the age of 15 two years ago. Haven't fought once yet," he laughed. "Just been on guard duty."

"Well, Samuel, it has been nice meeting you," Quinn said, waving goodbye to the young soldier. He gave her a bright smile, before returning to his duty at the exterior gate.

Quinn gave a terse nod to the other guards at the interior gate, who left the main gate rolled down, but opened a side door for her to pass through the interior walls.

Solitude was a much larger city than Markarth, and more dense than Windhelm. Following Samuel's instructions, Quinn entered the building to her left, causing a bell attached to the door to ring when she opened it.

The inn was lively and well, the living room full of patrons drunk and merry off of ale. Live music was being played, filling the inn with vibrant energies. Quinn walked towards the counter, where a young Redguard woman attended to customers.

"You must be Mercedes, I take it," Quinn greeted. The darker woman looked surprised, but then smiled.

"I take it you've met Sam?" the darker woman laughed. "Take a seat, take a seat," she beckoned Quinn.

"He's very smitten over you," Quinn recounted his love struck statement for Mercedes.

"He recently told me he fancied me," Mercedes said, "Most Nords go for lighter skinned girls, especially with bodies like yours," she directed to Quinn's body.

"Nonsense," Quinn smiled, "I myself think you're beautiful- and it's good a man like Samuel sees that."

The Redguard woman flushed in embarrassment, "My, you have a way with your words. So, what can I get for you? Anything to eat or drink, perhaps?"

"A room for two nights- does that include the bathhouse? Samuel told me it was in the basement," Quinn asked.

"Price is 10 coins for a room per night, and 5 per bath use, but I like you, so I'll let you at it for 10 coins both nights. And tonight's dinner is on me, you look like you could use a hearty meal, girl!" Quinn pulled 10 coins from her satchel, handing it to Mercedes.

"I must've done something for Kyne to bless me with such fortune," Quinn laughed. "My name is Quinn, by the way."

"Though you've heard it from Sam, I'm Mercedes," the darker teenager introduced herself. "Ma!" she called out, getting attention from another Redguard woman who was serving the drunken patrons ale. "I'm leading a customer to the Girl's baths, take over the counter!"

Quinn stretched out in her room, fresh from a long, hot bath, and satisfied from a home cooked meal by Mercedes' father. He had taken a liking to Quinn, and had offered a white tunic they sell to guests if they wanted their clothes to be cleaned for free.

Quinn and Mercedes spent a bit of time talking in Quinn's room, which was nice considering that Quinn hadn't had a good conversation she lived with Leroy.

She had her eyes closed for a couple of moments, and the next thing she knew, the morning sunlight lit up the room. The teenager rolled around in the bed, stretching out her arms, her eye catching a basket on the table next to the door. After another long stretch, Quinn got up to see what it was, to find her cleaned clothes folded neatly. Mercedes' father had done an excellent job- the dirt that stained her green tunic was nowhere to be found.

She pulled off the nightgown, and folded it neatly, before pulling on the green tunic. She then put aside the leather vest she used as light armor, deciding that there wasn't really a need to wear armor in a well governed Hold. She grabbed her grey leather pants, and pulling them on, before tying her black boots on. Afterwards, she looped the belt around her tunic, and securing the pack on the belt on the side.

Quinn left her room, going downstairs, and just as the night before, the inn was alive with noise and liveliness. Thankfully, the energy had calmed by the time she went to sleep, but Quinn was quite surprised to see how the patrons had just as much energy as the night before, though not as merry from the ale that had consumed.

She ran a hand through her blond hair, already grown past her shoulder blades from when she chopped it off, before waving at Mercedes. "Morning Quinn," the teenager greeted, crushing tea leaves and coffee beans from behind the counter. "Care for a cup of tea or coffee?" she asked. "On the house, as a friend."

Quinn shook her head, instead taking out a coin and handing it out to Mercedes. "A cup of tea, please. You've spared me enough generosity. Allowing more would be a serious crime," she joked. Mercedes rolled her eyes, but smiled, accepting the coin, and passing Quinn a mug of hot tea.

Raising the mug to her lips, she sipped the hot beverage slowly, enjoying it as it ran down her throat. Though the months of winter had ended, it was still quite a chilly morning. She looked at the other patrons in the inn, observing that right now, it was mostly being used as a place to eat. The tables filled with drunken men the night before, were now filled with a variety of citizens- guards, couples, and some of the occupants of the inn were enjoying breakfast.

Quinn had learned that the Inn was well packed only because they were the only establishment to sell ale, and food, without requiring a room.

Quinn thanked Mercedes for the tea, handing the mug to her when she was done, before telling her new friend she was off to see the blacksmith.

She hadn't gotten her swords refined in Markarth, since the Hold itself was dedicated to mining more so than housing soldiers. Quinn knew from Leroy that Averan was one of, if not, the best blacksmiths in all of Skyrim. With that information, she knew if anyone were to fix her blades, it would be someone at the same level or higher.

Solitude was the capital hold of Skyrim, the city where the High King governed the land of Skyrim from, so Quinn concluded that there must be a blacksmith here worthy of Averan's works.

She exited the inn, and her eyes took in the energy this hold had to offer. Already, just hours after the sun had risen, the city was alive and working- citizens walking through the markets, merchants trading with business orders, caravans delivering produce or resources. The main street from the entrance to the city was packed. On the other side of the inn was a little stage, and two men were sparring with no weapons, a crowd of teenagers her age cheering them on.

Quinn followed up the main road, passing by other shops, and outdoor stands, and it led her to a courtyard. To the left of the courtyard was a path uphill that led to the castle that towered over the Hold, possible also to the large barracks of the Imperial Army. To the right, was more of the open market of Solitude, where tons of people walked around selling fresh produce, or other miscellaneous items. Straight ahead were the homes of Solitude, neighboring against each other, and less dense than the courtyard she was in, or the main street that led to the main gate. Looking around, she saw that past the large crowd that was the open market, was a certain building she had been looking for.

Heading over to the blacksmith, she maneuvered her way through the crowd. It was a bit daunting, having many strangers hold products in her face, shouting their prices if she would buy it from them, and the good it would do her if she did.

Had they been swinging around weapons, she might've listened to their offers, but most of the merchants that tried to gain her attention were either selling fresh produce, or fabrics and materials to make clothes. Quinn quirked her eyebrow in amusement, when a man grabbed her and immediately asked her to marry him, and he'd give her fifty gold coins.

A quick knee to his genital area later, Quinn finally pushed herself out of the thick crowd, grimacing at how crazy this mass blob of people became. She went around the store, not bothering to check inside. When she worked with Averan, she became accustomed to the fact that on busy days, she would be working inside with Francine, while Averan would be out at the anvil, hammering away at the large weapons he forged.

Rounding the corner of Solitude's Black Smith, she almost bumped into a man carrying a pile of steel ingots, the refined metals smelted to create weapons.

"Excuse me," Quinn said, apologizing for almost bumping into the young man, before recognizing the boy. "Samuel?" Quinn asked, a smile appearing on her face.

Sam moved his head to see past the steel ingots he carried, his eyes spotting the blonde teenager. "Lucy Quinn! Greetings, greetings! You caught me off guard duty, surprisingly. But I should've figured that a blacksmith would be the first place you come to see."

Quinn's lips curled into a small grin, "Glad you understand that I'm not into spending 50 coins on marrying a stranger."

Sam let out a hearty laugh, "I see you've managed to swim through the vortex of the Open Market," he leaned closer to Quinn, "careful about that place, you get sucked in, and never come out," he joked.

Quinn rolled her eyes, pushing Sam back jokingly. "I did go through that place, and came out in one piece. Thank Kyne for that. Anyways, who do I talk to for refining swords?"

"That would be dear ole' Uncle Evans back there. My dad runs inventory and manning the store front, while me and the other guys help my Uncle back there," Sam jerks his head, directing Quinn's attention to behind the store. "I actually have to get back to working, or my butt isn't getting dinner tonight. It was nice to see you, Lucy Quinn!"

Sam flashed her a boyish grin, which brought Quinn a smile to her face. He was a good man, and she was glad Mercedes and him had each other. She walked around the corner, to see a few other blonde males, varying in age. One was a few years younger than her, another older, and the oldest one, seemed to be what Averan should have appeared to nowadays.

The eldest man raised his eyes to look at the girl, before casting his gaze back to his work. Quinn recognized the act, she had grown accustomed to it herself when people watched her work on the anvil. Though, back then, she understood why it was such a sight- a young, tiny girl hammering daggers was quite uncommon.

"Store's out front, missy," he gruffed out.

"I'm not looking to buy a sword, I need to fix up my two blades," Quinn explained. The man looked up again, his interests piqued.

"Your husband sending you to do these favors?" he asked.

"As I stated before, I need to fix up _my_ two blades," Quinn reiterated, emphasis on who exactly owned the swords.

The man gave her a look over, before shrugging. "Bring them here tonight. My schedule is full today, but I can take a look at them tonight. 45 gold coins for that, and 300 per blade."

Quinn bit her lip. She had about 37 coins left- that definitely was not enough. Sam returned from taking the steel ingots to inventory, and caught the look on Quinn's face when his uncle told her the price.

Sam nudged the blonde's arm, before leaning over and whispering, "Hey, you saw at the front right? We go out and brawl. Every night, we host a little tournament- wooden replicas, and battle it out. Most of the younger guards were off duty today, so tonight's tournament is going to have a lot of bidders. Usually on days like this, pots can get up to 1000 coins. Go find Hudson, and tell him you want in. He's a bit of a brute, so watch out."

Sam gives Quinn a reassuring smile, and she decides then that she definitely needs to praise Kyne for her fortune. Running into Sam had just ended up into good opportunity one right after the other. She gave Sam a farewell wave, before heading around the store. She decided to walk along the edges of the courtyard, avoiding walking through the mass, before returning to the front.

She made her way down the large, packed, main street, to where the stage was, where the two new boys brawled. She found herself at the back of the crowd of kids all ages, cheering on the fight.

She tapped one of the kids shoulders, who turned around, face menacing, ready to pound the person who dare interrupt them from the fight. When the boy faced Quinn, he immediately softened his face, and eyes widened. "Uh, hi," he muttered. His voice was incredibly nasally, that Quinn's face contorted into confusion, just to figure out the phrase he just said.

"Do you know where I can find Hudson?" she asked, straight to the point. This guy was giving her a rather creepy stare, and she was pretty sure she could see him literally drooling in front of her.

"He's ring keeper for these brawls- the guy who makes sure the fights are fair," the kid pointed out, and Quinn tiptoed to see past the taller crowd, finding a tall, really tall, guy, leaning on the wall, watching the fight with a smirk on his face.

"Do you know when I can talk to him? I want to get in on…tonight's fight," Quinn said, unsure if these nightly tournaments had any proper name.

The teenager immediately shushed her. "Hey, don't talk about it so loudly! If the guards find out we can bet for shit. Gambling is illegal here- are you stupid!?"

Quinn glared at the teenager when she felt a flicker of spit land on her cheek. She wiped it immediately, her cold gaze made the boy back up a few steps. "Well, how do I get in?"

"Just show up. It's in Hudson's basement. His basement has an opening in the back of his house- a guy will be guarding the door. Password for tonight is, 'Pass the booze'."

A loud cheer from the kids around her took the attention of the guy, which Quinn was glad for, and she returned to the Inn.

Upon entering the Inn, she realized that past midday, it was much quieter in the Inn, and very so empty. A few merchants visiting Solitude sat, reading books, or chatting quietly over the table. Quinn made her way back to the counter, smiling at Mercedes.

"Hey girl, how was your little trip into town?" she asked.

"It's a lot crowded, and I'm not really used to that. Met Sam, didn't know he works at the blacksmith here."

"It's not really a job, more of what he does when he isn't working as a guard," Mercedes explained.

Quinn nodded, before leaning closer to Mercedes. "You're a teenager here- so you've heard of the nightly tournaments, haven't you?"

Mercedes raised an eyebrow. "Girl, the boys that Hudson rounds up for those things are no good. Especially tonight, filled with raunchy guys who only think with their lower friend. I went with Sam a couple times- its entertaining, but it's pretty brutal. The wooden replicas they use for weapons are meant for practicing, so they aren't flimsy pieces of wood. Sam took part once, before we got together, and I saw him the day after. In a cast, and bruised all over."

Quinn laughed, "I'm not interested in the guys, Mercedes. I'm interested in the money. I can't get my swords fixed up without the money."

Mercedes gave her a look, "If you are that willing, and confident, to be a part of that," she paused, before a mischievous grin split her face, "then I am going to warn you now- if you get hurt, I told you so.

"But," she continued, "Girl, you came here from Markarth, on your own, in a week. You're crazier than any of the boys in town. I'm putting my money on you, and I'll probably be the only one, so you better not lose."

Nightfall came quickly, and Mercedes told her parents that she was going to take Quinn out to the hall in Solitude for some live music and dancing- an activity the average teenager partook in Solitude. Instead, after dropping off Quinn's swords to the blacksmith, they made their way to one of the houses at the edge of Solitude, and rounded to its backside.

The saw a large teenager, leaning on the wall next to the door, give them a look. "Pass the booze," Quinn said, and the boy nodded, letting the two girls enter. Quinn opened the door, and they went down the wooden stairs, and opening another door. They spotted Sam sitting with two other blonde guys, which Quinn recognized as Sam's siblings, having worked at the blacksmith also, and quickly went to join them.

"Lucy Quinn, you better know what you're getting yourself into," Sam warned, while wrapping an arm around Mercedes. Quinn just gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Let's just wish luck from Talos, then, huh?"

Hudson made his way onto of a crate on the other side of the room, his tall stature gaining the attention to the teenagers and young adults filling the room. "Alright, settle down everyone," his voice called out. "Booze is by the stairs," he pointed to a bin where other boys were already started on their bottled ale, "Now everyone, tag the walls. You know the rules. If you wanna compete, get to the middle of the room."

Immediately the center cleared except for 6 guys, and Quinn moved herself towards the center. Chatter buzzed, hushed whispers and snickers filled the room when they noticed the blonde teenager joining the room. Hudson made a face, one that Quinn couldn't exactly interpret.

"Alright. Jaren, since its odd, you'll wait after the first round, so get over here and sit out."

The biggest boy gave a smirk to Quinn, his eyes rolling up and down the girl's body. Quinn just gave the boy a bored look, with a raised eyebrow, stating exactly what her thoughts were.

Hudson went through each of their names, and the teenagers in the room all bid on who they thought would win this time. If that person won, those who bid on them got twice the amount of money they bid, and the fighter would receive the rest. Quinn at first wondered how she would get any money, but then understood why Sam told her, when neither him nor Mercedes bid for her. In fact, she was the only contestant they couldn't bid for. Once the tournament started, nobody could change bids, only add more to who they originally bid for.

"Alright, Tier 1 starts with Quinn and Jesse, Elric and Harkon, and Embric and Ralof. Quinn and Jesse, you're up first. Bare fists, or wep's, your choice."

"Wep's," Jesse spoke, and Quinn faced her opponent. Her face hardened, not in preparation, concentration, or intimidation, but the fact that Finn had faced her against the slimmest opponent. Jesse himself hadn't received a high bid, unlike the other five males, which made it more observable that nobody in the room thought he had a chance after this battle.

Finn threw two wooden swords- they were thick and well crafted. Much like the ones Quinn had before. When she was nine.

Compared to her heavy steel swords, these were flimsy. She picked up her sword, and held it with her right hand, lowering her stance to a slight bend at the knees. Jesse, on the other hand, stood upright, knees locked out, and held both hands on the wooden sword's handle.

"Start the fight," Finn shouted, enticing them to move. But Quinn didn't move one bit. And Jesse flinched, because she didn't.

Sam's lips curled upwards- this was something new. Since most of the guys fought to pound each other away and show dominance in strength, most fights were over in a couple of minutes. The minute Finn started the fight, the two guys would usually charge at each other and have at it.

Instead, Quinn remained crouched, while Jesse looked at her, completely unsure of what to do.

"Oh to hell with this bitch," Jesse muttered, and dashed forward, raising the sword to strike down on Quinn, whose front was completely unguarded.

Quinn leapt forward, putting her left hand next to Jesse's foot, and slid around the boy faster than he could follow her movements. He had barely registered that the blonde girl was no longer in front of him, when he felt her wooden sword slam against the back of his knee caps, forcing him to collapse on the ground.

Jesse rolled over on the ground when he collapsed, tears leaking out his eyes, very much so surprised from what just happened. In fact, the whole room was. Sam and Mercedes were the only sources of noise, cheering Quinn on.

"You fuckin' bitch!" Jesse cursed, before getting back up on his feet and rushing at Quinn again. This time, Quinn charged towards him, and swung, much faster than he had. His arms were still raised in the air when he fell, dropping the wooden sword and clutching his stomach. By now, the tears leaking had become a steady stream, as the boy sobbed in pain.

Jesse tapped the floor three times, signaling he was out, and the Evans family and Mercedes cheered for their girl, bringing the girl in and hugging her.

Finn had the second and third fight start, and though Quinn's new friends wanted to talk to her about her skills, or apologize if they ever underestimated her, Quinn's responses became laconic and on autopilot. Instead, she did what Lucy did best. She watched, and she observed. Elric won the second match, and Ralof won the third.

Elric fought fist to fist with Harkon, and knocked the guy out in one punch, while Embric and Ralof fought with wooden swords much like Quinn and Jesse. However, Ralof was a lot slower with his swings, and putting the wrong amount of forces in the wrong movements. He was sloppy, and slow.

Finn got back up, a bit tipsy from the ale he had been drinking. "I now commence Tier II, with Quin and Elric, and Ralof and Jaren!"

Quinn stepped out of the ring the crowd had made, as did Elric. The elder boy gave her a crooked grin, and said, "Fists." Elric wasn't a stupid guy, after watching Quinn fight, and watching Ralof, he knew that this girl was something with the sword. Maybe her dad was in the army too, and taught his little girl how to fight. Either way, he knew Quinn wouldn't beat him in brute strength.

Finn and the crowd cheered for them to start, and once again, Quinn made no movement to fight, and Elric hesitated. But after that moment of hesitation, Elric charged forward. Quinn quickly dodged him, moving around the boy fluidly, and almost gracefully.

The room was completely different from Quinn's first fight, instead of it being quiet, it was full of angry yells, either insulting Quinn, or telling Elric to teach her what place she was in. She heard someone call her a wicked bitch, grabbing her attention when it shouldn't have. Elric's arm had swung, and she hadn't ducked fast enough, swiping her across the cheek and causing her to hit the ground. Quinn rolled over, sensing that the boy was going to stomp on her, and got up quickly, as if she hadn't been hit by the muscular boy.

Quinn chastised herself, for getting distracted by the crowd. She had bitten her lip during the blow, and blood dripped down her chin. Her physically injuries looked far worse than how she actually was. She was more agitated that she had lost herself for a quick moment in nostalgia, when someone had insulted her the way Karofsky and Adams had.

Elric grinned at Quinn, wanting to see the pain she was in, but when the blonde teenager merely grinned at him, raising an eyebrow, he snarled at her and charged again. This time, Quinn didn't let the taunts from the crowd distract her from sidestepping from his hands, and striking her palm upwards, slamming against Elric's jaw. Blood immediately dripped out of his mouth, as he had bit his tongue, along with her slamming against it, and had ripped a part of his tongue off.

_Brutal_, Quinn recalls Mercedes' description of this fight. Elric spit out blood, tapping the ground in shame three times. Unlike the majority of the fight, the crowd had instead cheered for Quinn, accepting that they had lost money from their bids.

The girl had beaten one of the toughest teenagers in tow, getting a bruised cheek and a split lip, while he chokes on his cut tongue, stuffing his mouth with wet rags to absorb the bleeding and stop it.

Jaren and Ralof's fight end after Quinn wipes the blood of her chin, just as Elric's first round did with a knockout punch.

"The pot we got tonight is 874 coins, with 124 on Jaren. 248 goes to the bidders, if Jaren wins," Finn then motioned to the girl, quite unhappy with the results. "But if this girl here wins, with no bids, she wins it all. So let's end this quick, Jaren."

"Weapons," the bigger male spat out, scowling at Quinn. He had been quite amused after Jesse's defeat, but the way she humiliated Elric into a bleeding baby- "This bitch needs to learn her place," Finn muttered into Jaren's ear.

Jaren nodded, giving Quinn a wicked grin.

Quinn hadn't seen Jaren fight with a weapon, but when he was handed two swords, and Quinn only one, she hadn't had time to protest as he charged towards her. Unlike Jesse, Jaren was coordinated, and not a sloppy fighter. He's had training.

And had Quinn not been so quick on her feet, this fight would've been over quickly. Along with if Quinn was just a normal Nord.

But Quinn wasn't normal, and Jaren's training did not include mastering his left hand. It was so sloppy, and it mocked what Quinn had trained through, that Quinn put aside the gold for a moment. Instead of easily ending this with a strong jab at Jaren's pressure point, she had to teach this boy a lesson. Dual wielding was not something you can just pick up, and hack away with. So she let herself appear unguarded for a second, allowing the boy to charge at her, and she quickly evaded both swings. Instead of easily knocking the boy out, she swung at his sloppy left hand causing him to drop the wooden sword, before grabbing its handle, and rolling away from Jaren.

The crowd was split into two- those that bid on Jaren, and those who had lost their bids already, cheering Quinn on. But the moment she took her proper, trained stance with the two swords, the cheering ceased. At this moment, everyone except Jaren, saw Quinn for what she really was. _Dangerous_.

Jaren charged at her once more, and Quinn swung both swords, completely destroying the replica in Jaren's hand, before side stepping, and striking Jaren in a chained combo of attacks. She moved fluidly, quickly, and strongly, beating the boy down until he cried out and slammed the floor as quickly as he could.

In that moment, Mercedes rushed to the blonde girl and squeezed her tightly. "Oh praise Talos! You, my girl, are officially my hero!" the Redguard swooned hugging Quinn. Sam wrapped his arms around the two girls, agreeing with Mercedes' himself

"I'm so glad you didn't make me regret telling you about this, Lucy Quinn!" Sam cheered, ruffling Quinn's blonde hair. Finn approached Quinn, obviously upset about the outcome, and how it could possibly damage his nightly activities since a strange girl took all the money. He gave the large sack of coins to Quinn.

"He's only pissed because when bidders lose a lot of money, they don't come back for a while. Hurts Hudson's reputation. Your case especially, since his bidders lost all of their money," Sam explained.

Quinn grabbed the taller boys arm, turning him around, handing him the sack. "645," she said. He gave her a confused looked, which Quinn could've mistaken with one of a stomach illness. "I only need 645 coins," she explained. Relief came over Finn's face.

"You sure? I'm glad, but you sure?" he questioned. He couldn't go against the rules he set just because someone highly unlikely won. It would hurt his reputation even more than the money his tournament lost- but this girl, was offering to give a portion of it up. Anything over 100 gold was a lot.

"I'm sure, just give me 645," Quinn repeated, and Finn counted the coins in tens, giving it to Quinn to check. After ten minutes, he finished, and she had made sure he made the right calculation, before he turned to her. He nodded to her. "I won't be having a tournament tomorrow night cause of this," he started, but then gave her a small smile, "but you're pretty kickass. You gave us a good show. I'm pretty sure whenever you attend one of these, I'll get a full house."

Quinn nodded back to him, before heading back to Sam and Mercedes. "Girl, you were amazing," Mercedes started, before leading Quinn outside, followed by the Evans siblings. They bid their goodbyes, and Mercedes and Quinn walked all the way back to the Inn, entering the building.

It was very late, much later than the time Quinn entered the city the night before, so the Inn was a lot quieter. A few drunken patrons hadn't made it to their rooms, and were in loft lying by the fire, knocked out. An Imperial Soldier hired to guard the Inn during the night hours sat at the front, nodding at Mercedes and Quinn when the two girls walked in.

Mercedes directed herself towards her own room in the building, while Quinn made her way down to the girl's bath after dropping off the prized money in her room. After another long soak, just as the night before, she wrapped herself in a white robe and made her way up the stairs to her room, unlocking the door with a key, and entering the dark room.

She pulled on her green tunic and leather pants, not bothering to wear the nightgown again, and lay on the bed, looking up at the stars. Perhaps while her swords were getting fixed up, she would go down to the beach. This was her last night at the inn, and she didn't have enough money to stay in Solitude forever, no matter how nice it was to be there.

She considered asking for a room at the inn in exchange for labor, but reconsidered. She was a trained warrior, and opting to spend her life relaxing a normal life was not what Leroy had gifted her, and not what Lucy had wanted when she left Windhelm.

Quinn still needed to find a solution to clearing the Fabray name, but as intelligent as the blonde, she was no scholar, which was what the Fabray Clan had been known for.

Closing her eyes, Quinn decided to put those thoughts at rest. She was in the world for sixteen years- she could go through a few more before finding what she really needed to do. Closing her eyes, Quinn let herself succumb into slumber.

**A/N: **You know, that stupid two day wait before I can post a story is the only reason I had this chapter finished.

You know what fucking sucks? Sleeping through classes. I mean its awesome that I wake up rested, but shit, its soo bad that I keep sleeping through them. Days late but goo TPA.

This is a Quinn-centric fic, if you couldn't tell, excluding the prologue. POV will switch at times, but this is very Quinn centric. And we actually won't have faberry interactions for a couple of chapters, bare with me. I like non-rushed stories.


End file.
